


Lasciviously Lacy

by RavenGrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Fingering, Handjobs in the car, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, PWP, Panty Kink, Sammy in women's underwear, Sibling Incest, Stockings and Garters, Wincest - Freeform, handjob, men in lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy's got a kink and Dean is delighted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lasciviously Lacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicbubblepipe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/gifts).



> I am so poots at names. And summaries. Welp.

             It had started with Jess. It had been one of her kinks and he’d reluctantly obliged it, with a great deal of laughing and blushing, wearing the ridiculous scraps of lace just in the bedroom to start with. It had progressed from there to wearing them to class, to the store, to the library. It got to the point where they had almost an entire drawer full of thongs, mixed in with the rest of Jess’s underwear for secrecacy’s sake.

             She’d loved how it contrasted with what was expected of a hulking, six foot four man. Loved how delicate and frail the thin strips of lace looked outlined on his narrow hips, covering the prominent outline of his cock. He loved how soft they were against the skin of his thighs when she’d slide them down and off. It was a win win situation for the both of them.

            After she’d past, it had stuck, and Sam wore them whenever he could swing it without getting caught. There’s a separate part in his duffel, a secret pocket, where he keeps five or six of the things. They’re delicate and lacy and a few of them have bows. Alright, most of them have bows.

           There’s one though, a lethal looking black sheer lace number with a matching garter belt, that Sam’s currently wearing. It’s his second favorite.

            It’s awkward enough digging up a century old corpse in a thong while Dean holds off the pissed ghoulie.What’s easily more awkward is digging up a century year old corpse in a thong is doing it with a raging boner.

            The coffin cracks open with a rough splinter of wood and then he’s dousing the body, a leathery shriveled thing, his erection withers just a little, in salt and gasoline and sets the fucker on fire. Dean gives a triumphant woop when Mrs. Harriet Louise, who’d kidnapped and murdered fourteen children, goes up in ashes and fistpumps the air enthusiastically. Sam allows himself a small, victorious smile, eyes on the blaze.

When the bones stop burning Sam begins the tedious and mind numbing process of refilling the grave. His cock gives an angry throb when it rubs against the panties, the abrupt stop of Sam’s earlier activities coming back to bite him in the ass.

           It’s when he bends over to retrieve his shovel that Dean gives a long, low wolf whistle, a dangerous smirk playing around his mouth. Mortification washes over Sam in a cold slide and his aching dick gives a smug twitch when Dean pops the elastic of his underwear.

Sam’s face contorts in a grimace and he straightens hastily, jerking his shirt down. “Well I’ll be damned, Sammy, you dirty bird you.” Dean crows proudly, giving Sam a good slap on his ass as he reaches for the other shovel, setting his sawed off on top of his weapons duffel.

“Dean, don’t.” Sam bites out warningly, ass stinging from Dean’s hand. His cock twitches with interest and Sam flushes hotly beneath a layer of sweat, pissed that he hadn’t taken the 30 seconds it would have taken to change into something more acceptable for a hunt.

           Dean hadn’t helped in the least with his stupid mouth, slick with spit and blood from his split lip or the way his ass looked like perfection in his jeans.

           “No, I get it Sammy, you needed a little quality time with your hand, but seriously, during a hunt? That’s sick dude.” Sam’s face is burning “Seriously Dean, just shut up.” He snaps out, the panties sliding traitorously against his heated skin and smearing pre-come.

           His discomfort must show because a wide grin splits Dean’s face “Tsk tsk, shame on you.” He adds condescendingly, sweat making his shirt stick while they shovel dirt. He stops shoveling when a thought strikes him.

            “Hell, I interrupted ya in the act,” he says gleefully, remembering the way Sam had scrambled off the bed, covered in sweat and panting. Dean is obviously pleased with himself.

           “Oopsies.” The look on his face is the exact opposite of ‘oopsies’ and he eyeballs Sam’s crotch. Sam’s got his erection tucked under the band of his pants, so it’s not all that visible, but Dean’s eyes still light up and the look on his face is nothing short of wicked.

           “Dean, I swear to God,” Sam says calmly, a note of underlying ‘nope’ present in his tone. Sam holds his shovel in front of himself, backing away from Dean. One of those flat gravestones trips him up and Dean pounces, Sam’s back slamming in the great weeping willow Harriet was buried beneath.

           Dean grips Sam hard through his jeans, the tip of his cock just peeping out. Sam’s hands close over Dean’s and he gasps, Dean’s mouth close enough to steal the breath away. Dean laughs, low and breathy, and catches Sam’s bottom lip with his teeth before thumbing the head of Sammy’s cock.

           “You are such an ass.” Sam gasps, trying to wriggle out of his hold. Dean gives him another good squeeze before letting him go. “Sure am, love.” Dean tosses cockily over his shoulder, bending down to grab his duffel and shotgun before making his way back to baby.

           Sam readjust himself, arousal burning low in his belly, and then huffily gathers up the shovels and his own duffel before following after Dean. Dean’s got his duffel tossed in the back seat and his hand on his cock before Sam even reaches the car.

           Sam drops his duffel beside Dean’s and resolutely doesn’t look at him. So it’s a good ten minutes before Sam glances over. When he does Dean is fisting himself slow and easy with one hand, eyes on the road and lips caught between his teeth. Sam sucks in a ragged breath and Dean looks over, eyes half-lidded and groans good and quiet, fingers sliding slickly up his shaft.

           Sam’s hands close into fists and he stares resolutely ahead. “You are such a pig.” Sam says with no real heat, more tired than anything.

           “Sure am, lover boy.”  Dean gives an amused snort and grabs one of Sammy’s hand off the top of his thigh and wraps it around himself. The skin is like velvet beneath his hand and Sam’s fingers twitch closed around Dean’s thick shaft. Dean’s skin is hot beneath his hand, his shaft curving gently to the left, and Sam almost chokes on his tongue.

           It isn’t the first time he’s seen his brother’s cock, but it’s one of the first time’s he’s touched it. Sam’s throat bobs on a hard swallow and Dean’s head tips back, eyes still on the road. “Aww fuck, Sammy.” Dean growls out, voice gone raspy when Sam lightly traces a vein.

           Sam’s strokes are purposefully slow and by the time they reach the motel both of them are wriggling uncomfortably in their seats and Dean is just as about ready to jump Sammy’s shit.

           Sam gets out of the car quickly, not bothering to snag his duffel, and rushes inside, intent on a very cold shower. Dean’s husky laugh follows him inside and Sam flips him the bird over his shoulder before he disappears behind the door.

           The water is frigid and he stands under it for a good five minutes before he realizes it’s futile and switches on the hot water. Dean tucks himself back into his jeans and doesn’t bother zipping them up. He grabs up both duffels and saunters inside, dumping them by the door. Kicking it closed, he takes the sound of running water for what it is and uses the time it takes Sam to shower to search through his clothes.

           With a grumpy sigh, Sam does what needs doing and jerks himself off quick and messy. He gets two strokes in before he’s coming over his hand, thinking of his discarded lace panties and Dean.

           “You beatin’ it?” Dean calls cheerfully through the door, rifling through denim and t-shirts.

           The muffled “I fucking hate you.” is expected and Dean replies with “Aw yeah, you’re beatin’ it.” in a delighted half shout, his own dick not appreciating having been neglected for so long.   

           “Bingo.” Dean mutters smugly, coming up with a handful of lace and bows. Dean has to give it to him, Sammy had hidden them well. There’s a pink, unholy concoction of lace and ruffles that would leave Sammy’s tight ass perfectly exposed save for the thin strip of fabric that would fit snuggly between his asscheeks. A simple lime green thong catches his eye and he considers it, laying it out casually next to the pink monstrosity that Dean’s leaning heavily toward.

           The next one is dark red on black, with bows at the hips and on the front. It’s also split completely from top to bottom, for easy access, and Dean presses the heel of his palm down against the front of his jeans, rocking up into it. Little garter belts dangle from the front and back and Dean wrestles the matching red stockings out of the jumble of panties and gives a low, heartfelt “God damn.”

           “Think you might be the one.” He tells the scrap of fabric lovingly, moving greedily onto the last two. One of which is a simple cyan coloured pair of undies. The last one, hot fucking damn, the last one, is white little thing, made of sheer lace with black bows at the hips. There’s a matching garter belt and a pair of white stockings to match. “Sorry, sweetie,” he tells the black and red number “maybe next time.”

           Dean may or may not be in love.

           Tossing the other onto the bed, Dean settles the white panties and stockings onto his lap and waits for Sam to emerge from the shower. While he’s waiting he snaps a good shot of all the other panties with a devious chuckle. Dean leans back on his elbows, like he’s basking in panties.

           When Sam finally comes out, bottom half wrapped in a towel, he’s confronted with the sight of a sickeningly smug Dean, surrounded by his underwear collection. Naturally, he freezes, mouth falling open in shock. “You dirty, dirty bird.” Dean repeats, eyes locked on Sammy’s.

           Sam’s lips move, expert lies dying on his tongue. He’s got nothing and instead tries to retreat back into the bathroom. “Come on now Sammy, put on your big girl panties and deal with this like a man.” Dean grins, beckoning him close.

           Sam knocks his head against the door frame and groans in despair. “What have I told you about going through my crap?” Sam grits out, dragging his hand down his face. “To not to.” Dean answers mockingly, eyes on the curve of Sammy’s scarred back and his towel covered hips.

           “Now get your huge ass over here, we’ve got things to finish.” Sam looks up and snorts “Not even dude, you’ll never let me live it down.”

           Dean rubs the silken material of the panties he’d picked out between his fingers “I’m not going to let you live it down period, Sammy my boy, might as well make the best of it.” Dean argues easily, grinning slyly at Sam.

           His pupils are huge and Sam’s heart rate kicks up. His eyes flick to the artfully arranged underwear and he balks, horror and an incredulous hilarity rise in his throat. “You didn’t.” He asks, voice deadpan.

           “I did.” Dean smirks back, showing Sammy the picture before lovingly stroking the send button. “And unless you want Bobby to know about your filthy little secret you’ll get you ass over here Gigantor.” Sam groans again and thumps his head hard again. “Woah, there tiger, you’ve barely got enough brain cells as it is.”

           Sam lobs his wet towel at Dean, hitting him squarely in the face with an “Ass.” Stark naked and well on his way to having another spectacular boner, Sam moves to stand in of Dean, hips cocked and arms crossed over his chest. Dean slips the towel down around his shoulders and grins cheekily up at him.

           Gathering up the innocent enough bundle of fabric, he hands it off matter-of-factly to Sam. The boyish grin does nothing to quell Sam’s ire and he goes to stomp of into the bathroom, only to have Dean’s fingers close around his wrist and pull him to a stop.

           “You’re not gettin’ off that easy.” Dean smirks boyishly up at him, amused by the double entendre in that sentence. “I sure as hell am.” He adds. Sam gives him an amused look “You’re one sick fucker, you know that?” Sam mentally admits to also being one sick fucker, as he’s already half hard and arousal thrills up his spine when he catches sight of the pair Dean had picked.

           “Sure do.” Even in his hands, the white contrast sharply with Sammy’s tanned skin and Dean moans raggedly, bucking up into the heel of his hand.

           “Do it right here, love,” Dean murmurs, voice low in pitch and growling. He meets Sam’s eye and licks his lips, tongue lingering on the split before he grips his belt buckle lewdly. Sam’s hands shake as he grips the bundle, eyes flitting to the tent in Dean’s jeans.

           “You’re a bastard, you know that?” Sam tosses out pleasantly, tossing the stockings back into the bed. Dean shimmies back against the headboard, pushing aside the panties, and watches as Sam bends down to slip the panties over his feet, eyes on Dean.

           “Nice and easy Sammy.” Dean murmurs condescendingly, slipping the jeans he’d never bothered to do up further down his hips while lazily fisting his cock. Watching the smooth slide of snow white material slide up Sammy’s muscular calf is one of the best damn things he’s ever seen and he moans loudly.

           Sam is lightly flushed and embarrassed as all get out, but not once do his eyes leave Dean’s. Sammy drags the panties up over his thighs, movement slow and exaggerated, and moans, the sound quiet and breathy. The strip of fabric slides easily between his ass cheeks and presses right up against his entrance, causing his breath to hitch in a familiar way. It’s one of his favorite things about thongs, the way they press in all the right places.

           Dean’s cock throbs and he lets his knees fall apart, giving Sam a good view of what he’s doing.

           Sammy’s hard cock disappears beneath lace and delicate black bows and Dean wants to cover the jut of Sam’s dick that’s just visible with his mouth. Wants to tongue the growing damp spot. Instead he rubs slow circles over the head of his own cock and controls his breathing, which is growing ragged.

           Movements sensual and slow, Sam reaches for one of the stockings. “Why not the red and black pair?” Sam asks softly, voice husky while he bunches it up and slips his foot in. Dean drags his nails lightly down his shaft, wets his lips and replies in a low voice “This one contrasts better with your skin.”

           And Sam moans good and long, thin white material sheathing his leg up to his upper thigh. “That’s why they’re my favorite.” Sam admits quietly, voice pitched like he’s admitting some kind of filthy secret. Dean has to grip the base of his cock hard to stop from cumming all over his head.

           With slow, well practiced movements he clips the garter belts into place and then reaches for the second stocking. The second stocking raises chill bumps on his skin when his calves rub together, the silky slide downright delicious.

           Looking down, breaking eye contact for the first time, Sam concentrates on clipping the other garters. Dean just about bites through his bottom lip.

           “Sammy,” Dean rasps out, voice absolutely wrecked “you can either get the fuck up here or I’m gonna come and get you.” Sam smirks and slides one of his feet over the curve of his calf. “Alright.” Sam purrs, climbing easily onto the bed, his cock aching fiercely. Dean’s still gripping the base of his dick, not having let go, and it twitches in his hold when Sammy crawls up the length of the bed to straddle his thighs.

           “Fuck’s sake, Sammy.” Dean mutters hoarsely, looking up at Sam with wonder and unabashed lust. “All in good time.” Sam laughs, the sound low and needy. Sam grinds down hard, gasping loudly and rubbing his clothed erection against Dean’s thigh.

           “Cheeky little bitch.” Dean groans, leaning up to kiss Sam hard and deep. Sam grins against Dean’s lips and leans back, the kiss becoming chaste. Dean growl and lunges for Sammy’s lips, eyes burning green and hungry. Sam leans back, grinding his ass against the top of Dean’s thigh.  

           Dean gets a good handful and hauls Sam in, hand splayed over his lace clad ass. Holding him close with one hold, Dean scrabbles for the lube in the bedside table. Sam watches with half lidded eyes, arousal pounding through his blood. Even the light brush of his panties on his hard skin is almost agonizing and he impatiently takes the lube from Dean’s hands.

           Popping the cap, he slicks his own fingers before slapping the lube back into Dean’s hands. Sliding the the thong out of the way, he brushes his slick fingers over his entrance before sinking two fingers in at once, already a little stretched from his earlier play. Moaning and arching his back at the cold touch of lube, Sam presses down hard, taking the fingers as deeply as he can.

           The burn is delicious and he slides them out a little before plunging them back, finding his prostate and massaging it between the fingers. Sam catches him bottom lip on another downward thrust and he breathes out a needy “Dean.”  

           Dean chokes out another “Fuck’s sake” and coats his twitching cock messily before grabbing Sammy’s hips hard. Sam smiles down at him, a deliciously dangerous thing, and slips his fingers free. With his lube free hand, he holds the scrap of fabric clear while Dean lines up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against the ring of muscle.

           Sam tosses his head back, grunting out a breathy “fuck” at the slow stretch, before making a greedy sound, hungry for more. When Dean doesn’t get the hint, his forehead falling to rest on Sam’s shoulder, Sam rolls his hips down, taking Dean deep and hard in one unforgiving thrust.

           Sam keens, arms gripping Dean’s shoulders with bruising strength, and holds perfectly still while he adjusts to stretching burn. Dean’s breaths come in great shuddering gasps and his hands scrabble against Sam’s shoulders, nails biting into the golden skin.

           Sammy is so fucking tight around him and Dean bucks up into his heat, the tight grip of muscle around him nearly driving him insane.

           And that’s all it takes and then Dean’s cumming, buried so deep inside Sammy that he can feel his pulse, the tight muscles clamping down around him and pulling every last drop of cum from him.

           Sam lifts up using the muscles in his thighs and drops back down on Dean’s cock, striking his prostate just the once, and then he’s cumming over Dean’s clothed stomach, splashes of cum making it as high as Dean’s collarbone. Dean recovers enough to wrap his hand sluggishly around Sam’s dick and he pumps him through it, gone boneless and limp save for the simple movement.

           Dean wipes the last bead of cum from the tip of Sammy’s cock and brings it to his mouth, rubbing it over his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and licking it clean. Muscles trembling and shaking, Sammy picks himself up off Dean’s cock and flops onto the bed beside Dean.

           “Fuck’s sake Sammy.” Dean says for the third time, a blissed out smile on his lips. Sam kisses him hard on the mouth, nipping his lip and breaking open the battered skin. “Next time,” Sam’s voice rasps sleepily “you’ll be wearing the slutty red number.” Dean laughs huskily and wraps himself around Sam, grinning widely.

           “Deal.”


End file.
